Radioactive
by simplytrop
Summary: It's kind of Arthur's own fault he accidentally got paired with another Alpha, the cocky, confident Alfred F. Jones. Omegaverse.
1. Chapter 1

I lied when I said I was never going to write Omegaverse. Except there's no omegas—alpha/alpha, USUK. Inspired by the gifset by diary-end at tumblr (post/53250684430).

* * *

The first time Arthur noticed it, the first generation was already gone, and nearly all the second generation too. He didn't know why it had taken until Rome and Germania disappeared to realize the Facility was slowly getting rid of the older models.

Which was why Arthur had decided to break out of the Facility before they disappeared _him_ permanently.

He didn't even realize his mistake until the enforced metal door swung open and instead of an Omega Physiocist, a tall Alpha Soldier came sauntering into the breeding cell.

"Yo, I'm No.X501776," the man said and stripped off his T-shirt. "I'm your breeding partner."

It was obvious at first glance that the other man was an Alpha, and Arthur automatically noted that they were doing a lot better in the genetics department nowadays because the man was a near-perfect specimen of masculine beauty. He had an angled, proportionate face, hair that shone gold even under the pale fluorescent lighting, and an actual perfect physique. Arthur could see the muscles wrapped beneath his even tanned skin, and he had a brief flash of jealousy. How was it fair that Arthur had been made earlier and was scheduled for disposal, while soldiers made more recently got to look like this _and_ they got to get laid to pass on their perfect genes.

"You're an Alpha," Arthur said, staring at the mistake. He had heard that the breeding facilities were close to the outer edge of the Facility so he'd hacked the system to get himself in. As one of the earlier versions of the super soldiers, he had never been a part of the breeding program. They hadn't started it until several years after Arthur was engineered, and by then, Arthur was too old of a model to be of much use genetically. "They've made a mistake."

"It's okay if it's your first time," the other man said, taking Arthur's statement as hesitation. He stripped off his thin T-shirt and tossed it onto the bed. "We're going to copulate until you get pregnant." He grinned at Arthur. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

"No you don't get it. I'm an Alpha," Arthur said, gesturing to himself. He felt somewhat offended that the other man couldn't tell even if he _was_ an older model.

The other man stared at Arthur for a moment. For all the physical perfection, apparently the newer models hadn't done as well in the intelligence enhancement area. The man shrugged after a moment. "Huh. I didn't know Alphas could get pregnant," he said. "So you want to do this standing or lying down?"

"What? I am _not_ doing anything with you!" Arthur snapped, slapping away the man's hand when he reached for him.

The other man only looked more confused. "Why not? It's our job."

"It is _not_—look," Arthur said, massaging his forehead. "Obviously they've made a mistake pairing us together. I can't get pregnant, you obviously can't get pregnant. We'll just have to explain the mistake to them when they come back in the morning."

The other man scratched his head, looking even more confused. "Are you sure?"

"I am absolutely sure I cannot get pregnant," Arthur repeated very slowly and loudly.

The man sighed. "What? So now I'm stuck with you all night and we don't even get to fuck?"

"Oh please, like this is a walk in the park for me," Arthur snapped even though it was probably his fault this had happened. Of course he'd bollocksed it. In hindsight, he should have been more careful breaking into the databases. He must have accidentally put himself into the system as an Omega instead of an Alpha, and ended up in this mess. Now he was royally fucked.

Sometime before Arthur was born, there had been another world war—everyone had lost count by now which one it was or whether it was just one long, continuous war. Either way the government of the United Nations had taken to manufacturing super soldiers in a secret facility. As one of the earlier genetic experiments, Arthur had been around for awhile, so he'd noticed when the soldiers a little older than he was had started going missing. While there was no actual paper trail that he could find, rumors had started surfacing that all the older generations were being disposed of to make room for the newer, upgraded super soldiers.

Arthur had no intention of being offed just because a couple of geneticists decided they could use someone with better genes so he'd made up his mind to escape. The problem was that the Facility was the place with the tightest security Arthur had ever encountered so getting out was no easy job.

A couple of times a year, the geneticists at the Facility selected the best Alpha Soldiers and the best Omega Physiocists and paired them up to produce the next generation of super soldiers and physiocists. The Omega Physiocists usually worked as the various scientists and technicians who ran the Facility. The Alpha Soldiers were sent off to the battlefield or on any one of the numerous missions being run. It had been nearly three months since Arthur's last mission which wasn't a good sign.

"So what's your name?"

Arthur looked up, jolted out of his thoughts by the other Alpha. "Arthur Kirkland," he said automatically.

"Is that your alias?" the other man asked.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No, it's my real name," he said as sarcastically as he could. They were given numbers at birth and the only "names" they were ever assigned were for use on their assignments. Arthur preferred the name to calling himself No. A00456, as did most other people here at the Facility.

The other man didn't seem to catch on. "Huh, they gave you an actual name?" He continued, oblivious. "My alias is Alfred F. Jones—not sure what the F is supposed to stand for. You'd think they'd tell me my own middle name—I mean, what if I go on a mission and someone asks?"

"Oh shut up," Arthur said, and looked around the tiny cell. He'd been trying to figure a way out ever since he was let inside, but there were no windows at all and only a small flap in the metal door—presumably for food. In fact, the only pieces of furniture in the room were the toilet and the bed.

Since he'd heard that the breeding cells were close to the outer walls of the Facility, he'd figured he could get himself in the program, shag a random Omega, and figure a way out while the Omega was indisposed. An extra plus would be experiencing copulation—supposedly it was pretty amazing.

Unfortunately, he'd ended up with an Alpha who seemed to be more brawn than brains, and he had to figure a way out of the situation before morning. While Arthur had luckily been off the radar so far, with this mistake, once the Facility figured out Arthur wasn't supposed to be in the breeding program at all, he had no doubt he'd be sent on a mission impossible that he wouldn't come back from.

"Stop," Arthur said, pushing Alfred back again because the other Alpha had sidled closer while Arthur wasn't paying attention.

"But I'm bored," Alfred said.

"You can't just—just copulate every time you get bored," Arthur snapped. "It doesn't even work that way between Alphas."

Alfred grinned. "You never know until you try," he said, utterly undisturbed. "You kind of look—"

"If the next word out of your mouth is 'Omega,' so help me, only one of us will be alive tomorrow morning and it won't be you," Arthur said. "Now will you shut up and let me concentrate?" Now that he'd fucked it up, he only had the night left. It was obvious that there was no hope for escape from the room because even with Arthur's enhanced strength, one look at the enhanced steel door told him he wouldn't be able to break through it.

"I was just going to say you look pretty hot," Alfred said, entirely oblivious to Arthur's annoyance.

Arthur began turning red in spite of himself. "Oh shut up." His best bet at this point would be to get a good night's rest and make an attempt at overpowering whoever came in the morning. If he took them by surprise while they expected him and Alfred to be fucking, he might at least have a fighting chance to get out.

"I'm going to sleep. You stay away from me," Arthur told Alfred just in case he didn't catch on. Then he claimed the bed and began wrapping the blankets around himself. He briefly debated giving Alfred one of the blankets, and then decided against it when Alfred started whinging.

"What? But the floor is cold," Alfred said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and wrapped the blankets around himself. He found Alfred's discarded shirt and tossed it back at him. "You're an Alpha Soldier," he said. "I'm sure you've dealt with worse."

Alfred heaved a loud sigh but pulled the shirt back over his head. "Well yeah, but we're supposed to be fucking right now," he said.

"I don't care what you do as long as you don't involve me," Arthur said and lay down on the bed, turning to face the wall. He needed as much energy and mental awareness come morning so even with Alfred's obnoxiously loud fidgeting in the background, Arthur modulated his breathing and heart rate until he fell asleep.

* * *

Arthur had dreams that he could never remember. The only thing he knew was that nearly every night, he'd wake up sweating and trembling—sometimes screaming—and have no idea why. It wasn't unusual for Alpha Soldiers to have nightmares, and of the others he'd spoken to about it, almost all of them were plagued with dreams as well. The lab psychologists said it was just a byproduct of being on the battlefield. Arthur had long gotten used to them as a part of his sleep routine.

When he woke in the middle of the night, sweating and trembling as usual, he felt a large hand rubbing his back and a quiet whisper. "It's okay, it was just a dream."

Arthur lay shaking in the dark, and gradually, he realized he could feel a warm presence all along his front. Alfred was in the tiny bed with him, holding him. Arthur briefly considered pushing him out, but he was tired and Alfred's hands felt unexpectedly good where they smoothed down his back, soothing.

Arthur heaved a sigh and shut his eyes again, letting Alfred's hands relax him back into sleep. He'd never slept with another person before, and he wondered if maybe this was why all the Alpha Soldiers and Omega Physiocists wanted to be chosen for the copulation periods. It was the one time of year they were free to be intimate with another human being—and it felt good.

* * *

_CLANK!_

Arthur jumped at the sudden noise and it took him a few moments to extricate himself from Alfred's heavy arms before he realized that the pale, fluorescent light had been turned high, indicating daylight, and two trays of food had just been pushed through the door.

"Shit!" Arthur cursed and jumped up, managing to dump Alfred on the floor as he raced for the door.

Arthur pounded on it. "Hey come back! You made a mistake! There's two Alphas in here!" he shouted.

But no matter how hard he pounded on the door, there was no answer or any indication that anyone had heard him at all.

"No one's coming," Alfred said unhelpfully.

Arthur turned to glare at Alfred from where he had sat back up on the bed. "Impressive deductive skills, genius."

Alfred casually stretched and cracked his neck. "So what's for breakfast?"

"Shouldn't you be more bothered?" Arthur demanded, annoyed.

Alfred shrugged. "Why?" he asked. "This just means I get an extra day of vacation."

"How is this a bloody vacation to you in any way?" Arthur said. He was aware he was taking his own mistake out on Alfred again, but he was annoyed and Alfred was only making it worse.

"Well I'm not working, am I?" Alfred said and got up to pick up one of the trays. "And the food is better too. Fuck yeah, hamburgers!"

Arthur wrinkled his nose. While they were normally kept on a strict diet to keep them at full performance, he'd heard that during copulation week, breeding partners got fatty foods and a lot of it—presumably something to do with the Omega hormonal balances.

"It's your fault I didn't wake up on time," Arthur said instead, glaring at Alfred. "You fucked up my internal clock."

Alfred didn't seem to notice Arthur's annoyance because all he did was eat the hamburger at a near impossible speed that made Arthur feel nauseous just watching him. "Sure, blame it on me when you kick me out of bed at this time of morning."

"We are stuck in here the _entire day_ now thanks to you," Arthur snapped. "Who the hell said you could get in bed with me yesterday anyway?"

"You were the one crying in your sleep," Alfred said.

Arthur turned red. "No I wasn't," he snapped.

"You're one of the older specimen, aren't you?" Alfred continued.

"Says who," Arthur said, wary.

Alfred shrugged. "Only the older ones get dreams… that and how you look," he said, gesturing vaguely at Arthur. He had begun eyeing the other tray. "You gonna eat that?"

"What do you mean how I look?" Arthur said.

"Well, you know," Alfred said, looking Arthur up and down. "You don't exactly _look_ like an Alpha… or an Omega for that matter," he added. "More like one of the Beta testers from forever ago."

"I am _not_ a tester _anything_," Arthur snapped, offended. "Excuse you."

"You're not even supposed to be here, are you?" Alfred continued and helped himself to the other tray of food.

"What do you mean?" Arthur said, doing his best to sound casual.

"They only use newer models for breeding," Alfred said. "They only want the newest and best genes in the pool." He grinned. "No one should be in here who wasn't activated in the last year or two. Maybe three—but you're definitely older than that."

"It's none of your business," Arthur said, crossing his arms. It looked like Alfred wasn't quite as stupid as he had first appeared.

"You're actually supposed to be an Omega, right?" Alfred said.

"Will you stop with that?" Arthur snapped. "Fine, okay. I'm not supposed to be here," he said. "I made a mistake when I hacked the system and—"

"Wow, you're _really_ desperate for sex, huh," Alfred said.

"Not for sex, you twat!" Arthur said. It was like all his training accounted for nothing when it came to dealing with Alfred because he couldn't control the raise in his blood pressure at all.

"Then why?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

Arthur began to sweat. He couldn't exactly tell the truth, but he also hadn't counted on having to explain himself to his accidental roommate. He tried to think of a good reason, cursing himself for having denied the sex one.

"You're one of the ones trying to break out, aren't you?" Alfred continued as though this was a completely normal conversation.

"W-What do you mean," Arthur denied, looking anywhere but at Alfred. Then the words registered. "Others?" he asked, whirling to stare at Alfred.

"Yeah, a lot of you older generation ones are trying to get out," Alfred said.

"What? Who?" Arthur paused. "How do _you_ know?"

"I met a couple of them before," Alfred said. "They always get lost."

This was completely new information to Arthur, but then, he wasn't exactly social and he only knew a few of the Alphas that he saw more often. People came and went so often that Arthur had long since stopped trying to pay attention. "You know the way out?" he demanded.

"Sure," Alfred said. "I'm surprised you guys don't. Basic training says you should know the layout and all potential exits of every facility you're in."

"On missions," Arthur said. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't apply to the Facility."

Alfred shrugged and grinned. "Can't help it. I have to know," he said. "It's in my genes."

"How on earth did you find it, though?" Arthur asked. He'd been trying for months to figure out the layout of the Facility, but the most he'd managed was to find the rumor that the breeding facilities were close to the outside.

"Hacking is part of basic training too," Alfred said.

Alfred's skills were clearly a step above Arthur's own because he'd been trying for ages to do that and he still got blocked every time. It was all he could do to even get himself into the breeding program, but Alfred clearly had no such problems. They'd outdone themselves making Alfred. But, Arthur thought, being locked in with him now might work to his advantage after all. Arthur would make sure those perfect genes came back to bite them in the arse.

"That means you can get me out," Arthur said. "I figure the breeding cells are at the edge of the Facility—"

"Wrong," Alfred interrupted. "I don't know who's been feeding you guys that info. These rooms are at the center of the Facility. Hell, even if you didn't hack anything, you should know that. This is where the most important genetic engineering is happening—they're not going to risk any of this falling into enemy hands."

Arthur gaped at Alfred for a moment and then glared. He should have realized that without anyone telling him. "So how do we get out of here?" he asked.

"Whoa, since when did I get involved?" Alfred said.

"Aren't you trying to escape?" Arthur asked, confused.

"Why would I?" Alfred asked. "I was made to serve this nation and defend freedom." He looked completely serious. "I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing."

Arthur was genuinely confused now. "Didn't you help the others?"

"I didn't turn them in," Alfred said. "I never said I helped them get out. I just figure every soldier deserves a fighting chance, but I don't know if any of them actually made it out."

"But you know how to get out," Arthur said, determined now. Someone had taken pity on Arthur and stuck him in the same room as an Alpha who knew his way out of the Facility. He was not going to let this chance go to waste no matter how annoying he happened to be. "They're going to get rid of me soon. I haven't been on a mission in three months."

"That has nothing to do with me," Alfred said. "Make yourself useful. If you show you can do your job, there's no reason they shouldn't send you out."

"You don't get it," Arthur said. "You're brand new, aren't you? How old are you? A year?"

"Three months," Alfred said.

Christ, Alfred was a fucking baby. No wonder he was still completely indoctrinated. "You've got all the newest genetic modifications. In a year or two, there'll be better models, newer ones that are stronger than you, faster than you," Arthur said. "No matter how hard you try, there will be others who are better than you and once they decide you're outdated, it's over."

He leaned forward, staring intently at Alfred. "I just want a chance to live."

Alfred looked away first. He exhaled. "Look, it's not that I don't want to help, but I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't? You know the way—"

"I mean I can't," Alfred said. "To get to the outside, there are three sets of gates," he said. He crouched down on the ground and began tracing an invisible diagram with his finger. Although there was no visible trace of what Alfred was drawing, Arthur could see the diagram clearly in his mind as it formed. "They detect ID by our genes, and they'll know who we are as soon as we pass the first gate. Security will be on us as soon as we walk through, and then there's still two more gates to go."

"Is that a problem?" Arthur said, raising an eyebrow. He was pretty sure that he could get through those gates with no problem as long as he knew where they were in advance and didn't waste any time getting there.

"The problem is getting back in. There's no way to stop the trace on us once we go," Alfred said, looking up. "In other words, once I cross that first gate without permission, and especially if I broke you out of the last one, they would know I did it. I'd be disposed of even if I didn't leave with you."

"So then leave with me," Arthur said. While he didn't exactly want to get stuck with Alfred, he hadn't survived this long just to die because of a stupid mistake and misinformation.

"I told you, I'm where I should be," Alfred said. "I'm not going to leave."

The problem was that Alfred was too young and still completely naïve. If he was only three months old, regardless of good genes, he could only have been on a handful of missions and he had no idea what the world was really like. Even Arthur who had been around for years now only knew a little better what they were up against. Arthur didn't have hours to spend on trying to convince Alfred to help him—so he wouldn't give Alfred a choice.

Arthur stood up and clenched his right hand, fingers first and then thumb over them into a hard fist the way he had been trained.

Alfred was still sitting on the floor by the trays, distracted by the food. He seemed at ease although Arthur knew, as an Alpha himself, that soldiers were never completely at ease.

"I'll die if I stay here," Arthur said, talking to distract now. "I've done my duty and I intend to stay alive." He had circled around now, keeping his voice casual, and Alfred didn't seem to notice. "Stop eating that. It's mine," he said, using it as the pretense to lean forward toward Alfred.

Then he drew his hand back and punched Alfred in the nose as hard as he could.

"_Fuck!_" Alfred shouted, wincing as he cupped his nose. "What the fuck was that for?"

Arthur ignored him, relieved to see that even with the genetic modifications, a hard punch to the nose was still effective and Alfred had started to bleed. "You're the one who won't help," he said. Then he let loose a second sharp punch to Alfred's ear this time.

"_Motherfucking_—" Alfred dissolved into a string of incoherent curses, and this time when he looked up at Arthur, his eyes had narrowed into blue chips. "You've gone fucking insa—"

Arthur swung intending to miss this time, and Alfred took the bait, automatically bringing his hands up to block Arthur's blow and leaving his middle wide open. Arthur landed a hard kick to Alfred's gut—not enough to injure, but enough to seriously bruise him.

He was lucky. Alfred was still so new that even with his genetic modifications, he had no experience.

It appeared Alfred's patience had reached an end like Arthur had planned, and he had gone on the offense. Arthur needed him violent for this to work. But instead of trying to punch Arthur like he'd hoped, Alfred tried grabbing Arthur—for a super soldier, Alfred was too damn nice, he thought. He leapt out of the way and aimed for Alfred's nose again.

Alfred swerved at the last second, so instead of his nose, Arthur ended up landing a hit to Alfred's eye and he winced. He didn't want Alfred damaged too much or he wouldn't be much help at all.

But that last punch had pushed Alfred over the edge.

"Have you gone completely crazy?" Alfred shouted, and this time he did charge, fist clenched, toward Arthur.

This was what he had been waiting for.

Arthur made a pretense of waiting to block the blow, both arms up in defensive position—and then just before Alfred reached him, he dodged low.

It worked.

Arthur heard a loud crunch and then found himself covered in a cloud of stone dust as both he and Alfred went barreling right out of the cell.

Instead of his fist driving into Arthur, Alfred's fist had gone straight into the wall by the door. Arthur's gamble had been correct. Although the door was made of reinforced steel, the walls around it were just plain stone and led straight to the hallway. While thick, the walls weren't thick enough to stand up to the fist of one of the newest genetically engineered super soldiers.

Arthur also reminded himself never to get in the way of Alfred's fist ever again if what he'd done to the stone wall was anything to go by. He might be an Alpha himself, but Alfred was of a completely different caliber.

"What the fuck?" Alfred was still shouting, though his voice had gone hoarse from the dust they were surrounded in.

Arthur peered through the dust, covering his nose with one hand so he could breath.

"Sorry about that, old chap," Arthur said and grinned.

Right on time, the alarms went off. The lights flashed and the sirens began blaring, deafening loud.

"I need your help getting out of here. And now you've broken us out," Arthur said.

Alfred wiped at his bloody nose, and Arthur began to feel guilty at what he'd done. Apart from the physical damage, he'd also just destroyed Alfred's life here at the Facility. There was no time for regrets though, and Arthur hadn't survived this long just to go down without a fight.

"They'll never let you live now that you've broken through their most secure facilities in the breeding cells," Arthur said. "You said it yourself. You've got to escape with me or they'll kill you."

Alfred stared at him, looking torn between anger and admiration. "Fuck me, you're a total asshole."

"But one who's going to live," Arthur said. "Now which way is out?"

Alfred shook his head, pulling up his grimy T-shirt to wipe his nose. "Left," he said and began jogging down the hallway.

* * *

TBC maybe


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't easy getting out of the Facility, but Alfred apparently had a perfect memory and a flawless sense of direction so he knew exactly which paths to take. He was also apparently the newest model of Alpha soldier so there literally wasn't any of their type who could match up to him in terms of strength and agility. And what Alfred lacked in experience, Arthur could make up.

"Left!" Arthur shouted as another Alpha soldier feigned a stab to the right. Alfred dodged left just in time to miss the swing, and then knocked the soldier out with an uppercut.

The alarms were blaring as Arthur pried the knife from the unconscious Alpha's hand. Knives were by far the better weapon in close quarters combat because whereas bullets could easily miss, and possibly in Alfred's case, be dodged altogether, a cut from a knife could inflict damage whether or not it was shallow.

He tossed the knife to Alfred, trusting him to know what to do with it—which Alfred did. As soon as they turned the next corner, he threw the knife with deadly accuracy, hitting another Alpha soldier square in the forehead so that he toppled backward, dead before he knew it.

Alfred said nothing, stopping only long enough to retrieve both the knife and the semi-automatic the dead Alpha soldier had been shouldering, and giving them to Arthur. "Hold these," he said, leading the way down another short but empty corridor.

"How much further?" Arthur asked as the corridor ended in a set of impenetrable steel doors.

"Last door," Alfred said, handing turning his attention to the security system. Nearly all the security systems at the Facility included pupil, fingerprint, and voice activation, which Arthur couldn't hope to crack on his own, but it seemed the Facility had never expected their newest Alpha soldier to use against them, and Alfred apparently knew exactly what he was doing as he stuck his hand onto the fingerprint analyzer and then did something complicated that ended in a series of binary numbers scrolling across the touch screen. "But there's still the field compound before we get out," he said. "They'll have all sorts of mines and laser detection so make sure you step where I step once we get out in the open."

Arthur nodded and turned, readying the gun against his shoulder for anyone who would come, waiting as Alfred worked.

A moment later, the doors opened soundlessly and this time, they were greeted by a blast of hot wind. Alfred took back the semi-automatic from Arthur and led the way through.

The outside was much as Arthur had remembered from his last mission, and he pulled his shirt collar up high to cover his nose so he wouldn't breath in the dust. He didn't have any goggles which were usually issued on an outside mission, but he could still see if he squinted.

Alfred, on the other hand, seemed to be having trouble, wiping at his face every few moments even though he had also puled up his shirt collar to cover his nose. And then Arthur realized it was because one of his eyes had swelled up completely since Arthur had punched him, and although his nose seemed to have stopped bleeding, it was still tender and stuffy.

"Let me fix—"

"No time," Alfred said, pushing Arthur's hands away, scanning the sky with his one good eye as he left the road and stepped onto the dusty land. "At least they'll have to search manually. Infrared won't be any good in this heat," he said. "Step where I step. If you set anything off, they'll have an easy time figuring out where we are."

He took off running in a zigzag course across the dirt fields away from the looming concrete building of the Facility. Arthur followed as much as he could, but for one, Alfred was taller and had a longer stride than Arthur. For another, despite his handicaps, Alfred still moved like a well-oiled machine and Arthur was hard pressed to keep up at the pace Alfred was setting.

He estimated getting across maybe half of the field before he miss-stepped and heard the click just before the mine blew him off his feet.

Arthur hit the ground hard and felt something crack, wobbling as Alfred pulled him to his feet a second later.

"Hurry up. They know we're here now," Alfred said as sure enough, large search lights were trained where the explosion was and had begun to rove, landing on them a moment later. "Fuck" Alfred said, dragging him along as he tried to get his breath back and his feet under him.

It felt like forever before Arthur could balance well enough to walk on his own—made more difficult because Alfred kept pulling him off balance in his hurry. He heard the deafening drone of a helicopter somewhere above them, and then the machine-gun rattle so loud that he expected to feel bullets piercing him at any moment.

They made it to the last stone wall keeping them from freedom, but although Alfred had been on target every time before then, all Arthur could see in front of them was the stone wall three times his height with no gate in sight.

"How do we get out?" Arthur asked, squinting in the dust. He couldn't see a gate, but the searchlights were getting closer.

"Shit, I must've gotten turned around back there," Alfred said, looking around. He also looked back at the searchlights. Worse, Arthur could now hear the steady rumble of the Facility jeeps and tanks coming closer now. If they caught up with them now, Arthur and Alfred would have no chance surrounded by Alpha soldiers on ground. The searchlights were now steadily moving along the wall and would be on them in a minute—maybe less if they moved faster.

"Here," Alfred said, kneeling on one foot and cupping his hands. "I'll toss you over," he said, looking up at the walls. He definitely had the strength to get Arthur over, but then Alfred would be stranded on the wrong side. It was too tall and too smooth for either one of them to scale it. As self-serving as Arthur had been, he wasn't sure he could leave Alfred behind to die after he'd gotten him into this mess. "Hurry," Alfred said. "At least one of us can get out of this."

Even through the gloom of the dust, Arthur could see how blue Alfred's one good eye was, and for maybe the first time in his life, he felt the twinge of a conscience stirring in him. There had to be a way, Arthur thought. He didn't have enough strength to boost Alfred over the wall, but there had to be a way to get them both out.

The rumble was getting louder, though, and the searchlights were closer. They were going to be caught.

Then Arthur abruptly felt himself lifted in the air. "Alfred, put me down!"

Alfred ignored him, and the next moment, Arthur's hand scraped the ground. Then he was airborne. He sailed through the air, barely able to see until suddenly his right shoulder hit the wall hard, and Arthur scrambled with his left arm, catching hold of the edge of the wall just in time.

As he forced his right arm up to catch a hold of the wall and pulled himself up, sweating because there was no leverage for his legs at all, the searchlight found him.

The blare of the speakers announcing his location was so loud it made his ears buzz, as he concentrated on pulling himself over. For one moment, he thought he was going to slip as he heaved himself up onto the wall ledge. He looked up at the open door of the helicopter and the two fully suited soldiers with their guns aimed right at him.

Then he slipped over the edge to the sound of gunfire, hitting the ground hard.

For a moment, Arthur saw black and he opened his mouth, soundless, trying to get air back into his lungs. The rattle of the machine guns above him shook the entire wall and the ground he was lying on. Strangely though, there were no searchlights on him and no Alphas firing bullets into his body or trying to drag him back into the Facility.

By the time he had scrambled to his feet, he realized the wall really was shaking and not just with the rattle of the machine guns. Arthur was showered with stone dust as a crack appeared in the wall, and he jumped back just in time as a fist broke through the stone.

"A-Alfred?" Arthur said, his voice nothing more than a croak.

The fist withdrew, and another loud thump shook the wall, another round of machine gun fire rattling off behind him.

Then the entire section of wall suddenly crumbled apart and Alfred came stumbling toward him, so covered in dust and blood that he was hardly recognizable.

"_Run_," Alfred said, and collapsed against Arthur.

Alfred was about five times heavier than he looked, but that was expected for the bone density and muscle mass it took to punch through about a solid foot of concrete wall. Arthur half-dragged, half-carried him toward the cover of the shabby bushes surrounding the Facility.

They needed cover. Alfred was already little more than semi-conscious and Arthur wouldn't last long. He had to get them safely camouflaged to pass the Alpha soldiers who were sure to come looking for them.

He lay Alfred down in the first decent clump of bushes he could find, a little distance away from the hole in the wall. The dust storm had gotten worse, but that would work to their advantage. Then Arthur got to work, pushing dirt and twigs over Alfred, squinting as he worked as quickly as he could until he was satisfied Alfred was all but invisible. Still, if anyone stepped on Alfred, it would be obvious he was there, so Arthur took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet as the first of the soldiers came out—not from the hole in the wall, but from wherever the gate was, further down the wall, probably afraid the rest of the wall would collapse on them if they tried to climb through.

Arthur then took off running as fast as he could, away from where Alfred was, and a moment later, he knew they had seen him by the shouts.

He heard the gunfire behind him and ran faster, panting as he crested the top of a hill. He wouldn't last long at this rate.

There was what looked like a shantytown down below, maybe less than half a mile off. If he could just get shelter there, lose himself amongst the people, he might evade capture long enough to find Alfred again.

Arthur took a deep breath and took off at a sprint. It had been a long time since he'd felt this physically wearied. His legs felt like rubber by the time he made it to the town even though he knew it couldn't have taken him more than four, five minutes to get there.

At least the Facility had been stupid enough to send the soldiers after him in jeeps so they could only drive around the clumps of bigger bushes, sticking close to the roads, which gave Arthur the advantage by foot to get there faster.

Once he reached the first building of the shantytown, Arthur slowed his pace and ducked into an alleyway to wipe the grime off his face. Then he slowed his breathing down, and put on his best air of nonchalance before walking out into the town.

He could already hear the commotion of huts and stalls being searched from the soldiers that had just entered the town. Arthur tried to look inconspicuous as he strolled through the town, scanning it for any type of an abandoned building he could hide in for a few hours. As he drew close to a stall that was being searched by a trio of Alpha soldiers, he was yanked into an alleyway.

"Follow me if you don't want them to find you," a voice with a heavy French accent said.

Arthur frowned. "What the bloody hell are you doing? Let go of me," he snapped, yanking his arm away.

"Merde, of course it would be an English pig," the French man said, but before Arthur could get a good look at him, he was being pulled further into the alleyway.

"What—"

"Follow me or I will scream and turn you in to the search dogs now," the Frenchman said, and then took off at a jog down the alleyway and then disappeared.

Surprised, Arthur sprinted after him, and saw that the Frenchman had edged sideways into a tiny gap between two buildings. He was fast, and Arthur was just lucky he had a small build so he could follow. If it had been Alfred, there was no way he could have fit.

The Frenchman edged out and disappeared from view again. By the time Arthur caught up, he was already on a rooftop of a shanty, and it took Arthur a moment to figure out exactly how to scale the assortment of rubbish bins and broken furniture to follow the man up. He lost his grip as he leapt from a precariously balanced bedframe to the roof the Frenchman was standing on, and slipped on the edge, only to have the Frenchman catch his wrist and haul him up. Arthur could feel at least two ribs protesting that—fractured at best, probably from the landmine, he thought, wincing as he clambered to his feet.

"You roast beef are terrible at this," the Frenchman said with such a look of deprecating pity that Arthur barely suppressed the urge to punch him in the face.

As soon as he had regained his balance, the Frenchman took off again, leaping from roof to roof for a little distance before jumping down to the ground again, and then vaulting over a fence. Arthur had probably never been so annoyed that he couldn't imitate the grace of the Frenchman and kept slipping on the uneven roofing, nearly spraining his ankle when he jumped off the building.

"If you need me to slow down for you, English pig, just say the word," the Frenchman said.

"I am going to rip out your—"

"Keep up!" he said and took off running out of sight again.

Arthur cursed and clambered up to the rooftop again.

By the time he finally caught up to the Frenchman, he had leapt over what felt like half of the shantytown and was so thoroughly turned around that he was sure they couldn't have been followed by anyone.

The Frenchman jumped from a crooked set of stairs, landing on his feet in front of a dingy looking shop, and went inside.

Arthur gave up trying to copy his running and jumping, and simply jogged down the stairs until he got to the bottom. He pushed the door open.

A bell jingled as Arthur walked into the shop, and he stepped into what was possibly the messiest shop he had ever seen. It looked like it belonged in a junkyard because junk piled the room from floor to ceiling—teacups balanced precariously on yellow-paged books, a broken air con perched on a waste bin that was set on a hideous green cabinet.

"Here," he heard the Frenchman say and followed the sound behind what looked like a corridor of junk until he got to a small door in the back. When he opened the door, he walked into a room that was the complete opposite of the mess outside. Although everything in the room was clearly worn and old, this one was pristinely clean and neat and decorated with soft pinks and blues. There were china plates set on shelves that had obviously been carefully patched. Frilly baby blue curtains that had been mended many times over framed a boarded window. There were two overstuffed armchairs with seats that had formerly been velvet but had lost most of the fuzz.

The Frenchman was already seated behind what was possibly the oldest computer Arthur had ever seen. He was adjusting a shabby sweater that he had tied around his shoulders, and with wavy blond hair, scruffy stubble, Arthur had never seen anyone look so pretentious, obnoxious, or _French_. And he had thought most of the French had died out years ago.

"What on earth?" Arthur said, gesturing to the mess outside.

The Frenchman shrugged. "I 'ave got to have a disguise," he said. "This way no one will bother me."

"Who _are_ you?" Arthur asked, taking a seat on one of the velvet armchairs.

"Francis Bonnefoy, the head of the rebels," the man said. "And you are a lucky escaped soldier, oui?"

"How—"

"Your uniform, your ridiculous eyebrows, the soldiers chasing you, the copious amounts of blood on your clothes," Francis said, waving a hand. "The eyebrows part is a joke," he added. "Most soldiers are not as hideous as you."

"Excuse—"

"But you must be better than most, oui?" Francis continued. "Tell me, how did you escape? Clearly, it was not because of your strength." He shot such a skeptical look at Arthur's arms that Arthur was tempted to strangle him just to prove a point.

Francis narrowed his eyes at Arthur. "Ah, of course," he said. "You 'ad help, did you not?" he said. "You left your companion to die."

"I did _not_!" Arthur said automatically.

"Ah, so you admit it," Francis said. He raised an eyebrow. "I thought the lot of you 'ad no loyalties," he said.

"He's not dead," Arthur said.

Francis just gave Arthur another deprecating look of pity. "If not now, 'e will be soon," he said. "No matter, one of you will do. Even if it is the less useful one."

"Shut up!" Arthur shouted. Then, because it was nearest, Arthur shoved the shelf of china so all the plates and cups came shattering to the ground.

It was satisfying to hear Francis curse at him for a full three minutes before he had to stop to catch his breath.

"If this is the thanks I get for saving you—"

"Nobody asked for your help," Arthur snapped.

"Then get out of my shop and _die_!" Francis glared back at Arthur.

"I'm not going anywhere," Arthur answered. Although he would be all too happy to leave Francis and his obnoxious presence, he wasn't stupid enough to go out there now when the search for him and Alfred had to be going at full swing. And now that the adrenaline was fading, he was beginning to feel dizzy. It had been more than a day since he'd last ate, he thought, and something of it must have showed in his face because Francis began staring warily at him.

"Do _not_ throw up," Francis said.

"I'm not going—not going to…" Arthur said and instead sat down on the ground, feeling too ill to even get to the chair.

He heard Francis sigh as he came nearer. "All right, we will discuss this later. You need to eat and rest," he said.

"No, Alfred, I have to get Alfred," Arthur said, blinking back the spots in his eyes as he tried to focus. He still had to get Alfred and take care of all those wounds. There was no way Alfred hadn't been shot and even an Alpha soldier wouldn't be able to heal without help.

"Where is he?" Francis asked.

"The—the hole," Arthur said, and dry-heaved when Francis pulled him to his feet.

He felt Francis flinch, but was too weak to even protest as he was heaved onto something lumpy but soft. "Sleep," he heard Francis say, and he did.

* * *

Even though Arthur felt exhausted and ill enough to sleep for a week, he kept waking to his own screams and incoherent nightmares. The only time he remembered a piece of his dreams was when he woke shouting Alfred's name even though he couldn't remember why. That time, someone gave him a tin cup of stale water which he drank and fell back asleep.

He wasn't sure how much time passed but he couldn't settle down until he felt a heavy, warm hand rub his back. "Shh, I'm here," he heard a voice say, familiar.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured, relieved.

"Yeah, I'm here," he heard Alfred say and finally drifted back into sleep.

Intermittently, Arthur heard voices conversing and at one point, the prick of a needle in his arm, injecting him with something. The only thing he was certain of was the constant scent of something masculine and the timbre of Alfred's voice. Vaguely, he thought that he had never been ill before in his life and he was pretty sure most people didn't ever get this ill, but he was too feverish to voice any of this.

* * *

Arthur woke to the faint buzz of muted machinery. When he cracked his eyes open, he saw that he was on a thin mattress in the same pastel coloured room, covered in about four threadbare blankets, and he felt in desperate need of a shower. He sat up, feeling uneasy and weak, and as he looked around the room, the door rattled and opened.

"Hey, you're awake!" He winced at the loud voice, but felt better when the familiar scent drifted into the room. "Yo, Francis, he's awake!"

"Alfred?" Arthur said, his voice raspy.

"The one and only," Alfred said cheerfully. "Well, probably. Dunno if they cloned me or what." He set the tray he had been holding down on a stool that had been placed next to Arthur's mattress. There was a needle, a bottle of what looked like alcohol, and a cup of water.

Alfred squatted down by Arthur's mattress, swabbed Arthur's left arm with the alcohol, and flicked the needle a few times.

"What—"

"Antidote," Alfred said before jabbing the needle into Arthur's arm. "Apparently the Facility has all of us infected, so if we don't eat their food with the antidote, the poison kicks in."

"But you're not…what _happened_?" Arthur asked, staring at Alfred.

Alfred looked nearly entirely the same. There wasn't a trace of the multiple injuries he had had before they separated, and apart from a pair of glasses perched on his nose now, he looked flawless.

Alfred grinned. "Apparently the new genetic modifications on me make me poison proof," he said. "And we all have accelerated regeneration."

"Your eyes…"

"It's really just the one," Alfred said, lifting his glasses. "The one _you_ punched," he said although he didn't sound overly upset. "It got infected with all the dust and everything else—it should be fine, just a little blurry but Yao says he expects it should heal in a couple of weeks."

"Oh…" Arthur said, looking down at his hands. "Aren't you…" He risked a look up at Alfred. "Aren't you mad?" he mumbled.

Alfred was silent for so long that Arthur scrunched up, preparing to be beat up because that would be the least of what he'd have done to someone who put him through what Arthur had put Alfred through. Instead, Alfred chuckled. "Well yeah," he said, and when no punch came, Arthur glanced up at Alfred again. "But I'm not going to beat up a sick person," he said. "You owe me _big_," he added. That worried Arthur rather more than Alfred beating him up.

"How did you find me?" Arthur asked, changing the subject.

"I didn't," Alfred said "Francis said he found me completely out cold behind a couple of bushes," he said. "He got me back here somehow—he thought I was dead!" Alfred seemed to find this hilarious. "Got the bullets out of me and everything, and I regenerated fine after that," he finished. "We've just been waiting for you to wake up for the last couple of days."

"How long was I out?" Arthur asked, scrambling up before he was assaulted by a wave of dizziness. He nearly fell off the mattress and Alfred caught him by the shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Whoa there, we don't want you to relapse," Alfred said. "Who knows how many of these Francis has left."

"I have to take these every day?" Arthur asked, looking at the needle.

Alfred shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "Until we figure something else out, I guess." It didn't sound terribly hopeful but there wasn't much Arthur could do about that.

"Have they stopped looking for us?" Arthur asked.

"Kind of," Alfred said. "Francis has been spreading rumors that we snuck on a caravan so a lot of the soldiers have been withdrawn, but there's still more than usual in town, he says."

Arthur frowned. "Who _is_ Francis?" he asked.

"Well, he says—"

"I am the head of the rebels, I 'ave already told you this." Arthur winced at the heavy French accent as Francis came sailing through the door, this time with a tray of food. "There you are, my ugly friend. You are hungry, non?"

It was only because Arthur was starving that he took the insult along with the food and tucked in. He wasn't sure if it tasted so good because he was so hungry or because Francis was actually a good cook, but he was hoping it was the former. Either way, the more he ate, the better he felt.

"Hey Francis, are we still gonna meet Yao later?" Alfred asked, walking around the room. Arthur watched him as he walked, feeling slightly guilty every time he saw Alfred's glasses. The rest of him really did look healed, though, and judging by the amount of energy Alfred had, he was just about at 100%.

"Oui—"

"What?" Arthur said, almost choking in his hurry to ask. "What are you doing?"

"Helping with Francis's rebellion," Alfred said, entirely unbothered. "He saved our lives, we owe him."

"Exactly," Francis said. "At least there is one here who is grateful." He shot a meaningful look at Arthur.

"That's why you helped us, isn't it?" Arthur said, narrowing his eyes at Francis. "You knew we were Alpha soldiers so you helped us so we would help you in your little rebellion."

"Mais non," Francis said. "I 'elped you because I knew you were Alpha soldiers _trying to escape_," he said. "You 'ave just as much reason as I to hate the Facility, oui?"

"You don't know anything," Arthur snapped. He couldn't think of a suitable lie fast enough.

"Well whatever," Alfred said. "Arthur, get some sleep. We'll be back later," he said.

Arthur was feeling tired again, but strangely, he found himself springing upright when Alfred walked out the door.

"Are you feeling better?" Francis said, surprised—just before a wave of dizziness hit Arthur and he crashed back down into the mattress.

"What—Arthur?" Alfred asked, coming back into the room. "You okay?"

As soon as he leaned close, Arthur found his hand reaching out to yank Alfred down by the shirt collar, throwing him off balance so Alfred collapsed on him.

"What the fuck?" Alfred swore, trying to pull back, but to his own horror, Arthur's arms had locked tight around Alfred's neck.

It took a few moments of confused extrication for Alfred to unlock Arthur's arms and sit upright. "What the fuck are you doing…oh shit," Alfred said, staring at Arthur.

Arthur stared back at him, embarrassed and confused. He wanted to hide his burning face, but his arms were shaking with effort not to throw them around Alfred again.

"You're imprinting, aren't you?" Alfred said.

"W-What?" Arthur stared at him. In fact, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

"Imprinting," Alfred repeated. He sighed. "I forgot you're one of the older models. I heard some of you guys still do this—actually isn't that one of the reasons they're trying to get rid of you all now?"

"What's imprinting?" Arthur asked, trying to focus on Alfred's words and not his voice.

"It's when, you know, like animals uh… you know how baby ducks imprint on mom ducks?" Alfred said. "And they'll follow them around and stuff? It's kind of like that."

Arthur panicked. "I don't want to follow you around," he said, and worse, in his panic, he found that he had instinctively caught a hold of Alfred's shirt again.

"Oh in your case it's a lot worse," Alfred said, sounding too cheerful for this awful news. "I've heard of it happening with Alphas and Omegas before—it's a side effect of the genetic engineering, where you do it to…"

Arthur prayed to every god that the next words out of Alfred's mouth wouldn't have to do with copulation.

"…your mate," Alfred finished. "Or whoever you want your mate to be? The guy you have your first sexual experience with? Something like that."

"_We have never had sex_," Arthur said through gritted teeth.

"Is that so?" Francis commented, looking far too interested.

Alfred grinned at Arthur. "So that breeding partners thing totally wasn't a coincidence, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Arthur felt like he might throw up. He kind of wished he would. Preferably on Alfred.

"Well, hopefully it'll wear off. We'll just stay away from each other for a couple days," Alfred said and walked out the door again. "See you later!"

Francis followed him out, giving Arthur the most knowing look Arthur had ever received. "Do not worry, I am sure he will come around," he said.

"Shut up!" Arthur shouted, beet red.

Worst of all, Arthur had to clench his hands tight and firmly force himself to stay in place so he wouldn't try to run after Alfred again. _Bollocks_.

* * *

TBC maybe


	3. Chapter 3

It didn't get better.

Even though the fever and exhaustion put him back to sleep, he kept tossing and turning, unable to settle down even in a state of semi-consciousness. Later when he was awake, Arthur would decide that this was debatably worse than nightmares because at least those he was used to and could wake up from. This was a neverending tug of want beneath his skin, something that no amount of medicine or sleep could cure, like an itch that couldn't be scratched.

"Merde, 'is fever worse."

Arthur came awake at the cold hand on his forehead and squinted, peering up at the shadowy face leaning over him. Uncomfortable, his skin flushed and too sensitive, Arthur pushed the hand away from him and rolled over, trying to sink back into his doze.

He heard someone sigh above him. A beam of light fell on his face and Arthur shifted to pull his blanket over his head to block it out.

"Alfred, is this supposed to 'appen?"

"What? Is he okay?"

The sound of Alfred's low voice, deeper than Arthur had ever heard it because Alfred was speaking quietly, loosened something in his chest and Arthur let them pull the blankets off of his head. The warm hand pressed against his forehead was large, and Arthur nuzzled into it, frowning when it disappeared a moment later.

"'e's burning up. Is the antidote not working?"

But Arthur felt fine, great even, as a sense of warmth and security washed over him. He reached for the source of the warmth, wrapping his arms around a broad torso, and inhaling deep. He smelled gunpowder and sweat, but all he knew was that this was the way things should be as he finally felt comfortable.

"It's the imprinting, I think," he heard Alfred say. "He's still recovering, and I guess…it puts stress on him when I'm not here?"

"Looks like you will 'ave to stay with him until 'e is better."

He heard a loud sigh. "Yeah, okay," Alfred said. "Arthur, loosen up."

Arthur frowned as he was pulled off. "No, Alf—"

"I'm staying," Alfred said. "I'm staying."

Arthur felt a gust of cold air as Alfred lifted the blankets, but then he was back, curling one arm around Arthur. Arthur sighed and shut his eyes again, moving toward the warmth, and fell asleep to a deep, sated contentment.

* * *

Arthur felt so good. His whole body was warm, enveloped in the feeling of a honey glow, and then he heard chuckling in his ear and his eyes flew open even as his hips gave another involuntary jerk.

"You sure you're not an Omega?"

It was a week of firsts for Arthur because he could safely say he had never even experienced a blush until he met Alfred—much less one that flooded his face because he had just been caught rutting against Alfred.

"Oh my god," Arthur said, staring wide-eyed back at Alfred's amused face.

Then, completely out of his depth, he dove for the blankets, wrapping them as securely around himself as possible as he tried to get both his body and his blush to calm down. If he died right now it would be preferable to living this down.

He heard Alfred's muffled laughter behind him, and then no matter how hard he tried to clutch at his blankets, they were being pulled off of him, until Alfred was grinning down at him again.

"Glad to see you're feeling better," Alfred said, and picked up the syringe that was lying on a tray next to them. He flicked it a few times before taking Arthur's arm, ignoring his automatic jerk away from Alfred, and sticking the needle in.

Arthur didn't feel much change with his body, and despite his embarrassment, he still felt sluggishly, happily content.

"Fever's down," Alfred commented, touching Arthur's forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Arthur said quickly. He did too, he realized, as he rolled his shoulders experimentally. He didn't feel dizzy or feverish, all his bodily functions seemed normal when he ran a quick assessment of everything. Heart rate normal, vision normal, breathing normal—the only thing odd was that persistent feeling of blissful safety that he couldn't shake even though he was probably the farthest thing from safe at the moment.

"Great," Alfred said and got to his feet, stretching. "Then I'm gonna go get something to eat."

But as soon as Alfred got to the door, Arthur was on his feet, the sense of warmth and contentment gone.

Alfred raised an eyebrow and Arthur barely kept himself from grabbing onto his arm or waist or whatever nearest body part there was. "You're going to have to learn to control that," he said.

"I—I can't help it," Arthur snapped, face burning. "It's not like I like it."

Alfred grinned. "Come on, I'll show you where the shower is."

Arthur was pleased to see that even after several days of incapacitation, his legs were functional even if he felt weak, as he followed Alfred down a narrow man-made corridor to another room.

This was a kitchen by the looks of the stove, old refrigerator, and a small crooked table set with chairs. From the kitchen, another door opened into a small room made of concrete with one old toilet, a sink, and a showerhead set right in the wall. A circular drain was in the middle of the floor, so unlike the Facility where the toilets and showers were in completely separate rooms, all the necessities had been crammed into one tiny room here.

"Go ahead and shower," Alfred said, giving Arthur a nudge inside. "Don't use too much water though," he added. "Francis says it's rationed out here."

Arthur nodded, and stood still until Alfred shut the door behind him, taking with him that wonderful sense of warmth and contentment and leaving Arthur feeling hollow and yearning to go back just to bask in that glow.

It took all his willpower to stay in the toilet, made easier because he could sense Alfred just beyond the door, rattling about in the kitchen. He stripped down, and folding his clothes up in one corner, he relieved himself and then turned on the shower, soaping his matted hair and scrubbing every inch of himself until he felt the week-old grime wash off of him. He was used to showering quickly although the sporadic flow of the water from the shower took some getting used to—going hot and then cold just as suddenly.

It gave him the excuse to shower as quickly as he could and even though he hated how his body was reacting, it felt like a cloud of bliss hit him as soon as he opened the kitchen door again and could see Alfred sitting at the table, eating what looked like a sandwich.

"Want one?" Alfred asked through a mouthful of food. He gestured to a second sandwich he had made sitting on the table.

"Ugh, swallow before you speak," Arthur said. "Why on earth did they wake you without teaching you some manners first?"

"That's not exactly important for a soldier," Alfred said.

"It is if you're on a mission," Arthur said.

"Depends what kind of mission it is," Alfred said and grinned.

Arthur sighed and purposefully sat down across the table from Alfred so he wouldn't give in to the urge to reach over and touch him. "Where's the French bastard?"

Alfred shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "I've been stuck in bed with you all day." He winked. "We could have made that a lot more pleasurable, you know."

Arthur kicked him under the table and got a satisfying wince. "I can't help it, and if you _dare_ take advantage—"

"Someone take advantage of _you_?" Alfred rolled his eyes. "I've never seen a such a feisty—"

"I am _not_ an Omega!" Arthur shouted.

"I was going to say sick person, but that works too," Alfred said and started laughing.

Arthur kicked him again for good measure. "If you'll stop being a complete idiot for a second, we need to figure out what we're going to do," he said.

Alfred blinked. "What do you mean?"

"We can't stay here forever," Arthur said as he picked up the sandwich and took a tentative bite. It wasn't bad as far sandwiches went—more meat than Arthur really liked, but his depleted muscles could stand the protein. "The Facility will still be looking for us—probably moreso if Francis really is the head of some rebellion."

"But Francis saved us and he isn't an enemy—"

"What was the job you did for Francis anyway?" Arthur interrupted. He'd been worried that it might give them away, but so far, no one had bombed their hideout.

Alfred shrugged. "We ambushed a transport truck and—"

"You _what_?"

"He said he needed the weapons, and—"

"I can't believe you did that!" Arthur said. "After we barely escaped with our lives. That's all but announcing we're still here—"

"_And getting your antidote_," Alfred said loudly.

Arthur stopped shouting.

Alfred gave him a pointed look. "You have to get that shot every twenty-four hours or you'll collapse," he said. "You're just lucky Francis knew what was on that transporter because I'm pretty sure I couldn't break back into the Facility right now and get you those meds."

"I-It's not like I asked you to," Arthur snapped. He looked down at the sandwich. "Why are you helping me anyway?" he mumbled.

That was a question he really did have because as loathe as he was to admit it, Arthur had caused nothing but trouble for Alfred up to now, and Alfred didn't owe him a thing. He was surprised that Alfred hadn't killed him for ripping him out of the Facility like that. He couldn't imagine why Alfred would risk his own safety to get Arthur meds when Arthur was the one who owed him.

Alfred shrugged. "You just…you needed the help," he said. "That's what heroes are supposed to do, right?"

Arthur had almost forgotten that Alfred was fresh out of the box, and still had all the naivety of new training in him still. "I suppose," he said. That naivety had worked to his advantage several times now, and as silly as Arthur wanted to tell Alfred all of it was, he could use it for now so he kept quiet.

He heard the tinkle of the bell on the front door, and both he and Alfred froze automatically. Even though Arthur's training had kicked in, oddly, around Alfred, he still felt none of his usual tense awareness. Despite his brain running through every sound he heard, analyzing them, calculating how it was one person who had entered, amateur training probably by experience—despite being poised to fight if the wrong person should come in, all Arthur felt was the same safe feeling of security like absolutely nothing could go wrong while he was with Alfred. He was starting to think was a little dangerous if he couldn't even force his body into complete awareness when he needed it to be.

A moment later, he heard Francis's obnoxious nasal voice carry through the shop. "Mes chéris, I am back!"

"In the kitchen!" Alfred called and a moment later, Francis was waltzing through the door with a shoulder bag which he emptied onto the table. Several handguns, two rifles, and about twenty small bottles of clear medication dropped onto the table.

"For you," he handed the semiautomatics to Alfred along with the long strips of ammunition. "For you," he pushed the medicine toward Arthur. "And for moi," he pulled the glocks in for himself. "Ready for tonight?" he asked.

"What's tonight?" Arthur asked, bristling when Francis reached over to rub a piece of Alfred's hair between his fingers.

"And I would suggest a shower before we leave," Francis said to Alfred.

"What's tonight?" Arthur repeated and, unable to resist any longer, slapped Francis's hand away.

Francis looked entirely too amused. "Ah oui, la petite Omega is needing 'is Alpha," he said.

"I am _not_ a bloody Omega," Arthur snapped. He wished Francis hadn't saved him because then he'd have no reason not to break his neck.

"But I will be needing 'im a few hours tonight," Francis said, ignoring him.

"What are you two doing tonight?" Arthur demanded.

"Francis has another transporter we need," Alfred said.

"No," Arthur said. "You've got the weapons, we've got the medicine—"

"We need that transporter," Francis said. "You owe me."

"Not—"

"You owe me until you leave," Francis said, all trace of amusement suddenly gone. "I could report two escaped Alphas 'ere, and you will be caught," he said. "It is only by my generosity I 'ave not sold you yet. Have you seen the bounty they've offered for you?"

Arthur hadn't but he could imagine. He also knew that Francis was right. As long as they were living under his roof, they had no choice but to listen to him. He glared at Francis.

"So until you can walk five steps without fainting, I suggest you cooperate," Francis finished, and then turned his sappy grin back on Alfred. "Of course with Alfred 'ere, we will 'ave no problems, oui?"

"Of course," Alfred said, preening at the compliment. "Now about the transporter—do you have the specs? If I know what road they'll be on—"

Arthur resisted the urge to gag. "Then I'm coming too," he said instead.

Both Alfred and Francis turned to look at him. "You can't," they said in near unison.

"Why not?" Arthur demanded. "I am not—not having Alfred out there with just you—"

Francis began grinning again. "Afraid your partner will find me more attractive?" he asked. "Of course I would 'ave to agree…"

"I am not afraid of—I just mean, I have more experience in combat," Arthur said. While a good part of his purpose was so that Alfred didn't accidentally die—Arthur wasn't sure just how well his body would cope with that. The other part of his offer was because the mere threat of Francis doing anything with Alfred while Arthur wasn't around made him involuntarily aggressive. It took all his willpower to calm himself enough not to tear Francis from limb to limb—which, unlike the neediness of the imprinting, was an entirely Alpha response. This reassured Arthur a little.

"We'll be fine," Alfred said. "And you're still recovering." At least he wasn't teasing Arthur. "We'll be back in no time, and if you really hate it here after that, we can leave once you're stronger."

It wasn't exactly what Arthur was hoping for, but when Alfred reached out and touched Arthur's own hand on the table, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb over Arthur's knuckles, calm contentment swept over him.

"F-Fine…" he said, hating himself for going weak-kneed at the action.

"You _sure_ you're not Omega?" Alfred asked, grinning. "All the how to treat an Omega tactics they taught us seem to work fine on you."

Arthur yanked his hand back and glared at him, even more annoyed that as annoyed as he was, he couldn't seem to shake himself out of the persistent feeling of happy contentedness. "Fuck you," he snapped.

"When I get back," Alfred said and winked.

Arthur rolled his eyes hard enough it felt like they might fall out, but he was still feeling tired and annoyed enough not to care that he was being left behind.

* * *

The fever returned shortly after Alfred left with Francis, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before—a good sign except that it also meant that Arthur was left unable to sleep through the absent hours.

Even with the food warm and heavy in his stomach, and the drugs running his system, Arthur could not calm down enough to sleep while Alfred was gone now that he was feeling better. No matter how many times he told himself logically that he barely knew Alfred at all, did not even particularly like the man, and most definitely was _not_ sexually attracted to him, the fact remained that he couldn't slow his heart rate enough to put himself back to sleep no matter how much he tried. He shifted every few moments on his mattress, but unable to get comfortable.

Once Arthur found himself actually counting down the seconds to when Alfred would come back, he gave up on sleep and got to his feet, shaky, to explore Francis's shop.

Francis seemed to live in what looked like a rat's burrow with the way things were arranged. Although thankfully, the kitchen, lavatory, and the room Arthur had been sleeping in were all quite close to each other, it wasn't easy getting anywhere else. Even where there weren't actual walls, Francis had managed to stack together piles of things to create barricades inside his own shop. While nearly all of it was junk—bits of broken furniture, mouldy old books, and so on—Arthur had also wrestled open a drawer wedged between two old yellow pages and found two handguns and several cartridges inside. Apparently Francis hid all the weapons he stole right here.

Once Arthur began taking note of the possible hiding places for weapons and medicine, he began to find them. He also found himself walking into complete dead ends every so often so he'd have to backtrack. Grudgingly, he had to admit that Francis actually had quite an impressive setup here. Even if someone broke into his labyrinth, it would take them quite some time to find their way back out again, and that could buy the precious few minutes Francis would need to escape.

The next man-made corridor that Arthur walked down held a particularly large cabinet. Curious, Arthur pulled it open. Instead of housing a gattling gun or some other large weapon though, he found only stacks of papers and old magazines.

He picked up a few of the magazines. That was a waste of good cabinet space, he thought. The cover of the magazine showed a smiling family—mother, father, two children, a dog—and Arthur paused. A scene flashed across his memory—a little boy laughing as he ran barefoot in green grass. A little white dog yipping as it frolicked next to him and then bounded farther as a red frisby flew down the grass hill. A man came into view, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grinning. He whistled for the dog as it came trotting back to him together with the child. Then a woman entered the frame, laughing, up close. She wore a pale yellow dress and ran up to the man who kissed her.

Arthur dropped the magazine, shaken. It had been a long time since he'd had an involuntary memory jolt. Although all Alphas and Omegas were bred and birthed at the Facility, from the time of birth to the time of maturity, all of them were kept in training tubes until it was time for them to wake. In a state of semi-consciousness, they were given an enhanced education that was passed to them in series of accelerated videos, while their bodies were regulated to grow perfect. Part of that indoctrination was Alfred's dogmatic belief that he was a hero making a difference in the world—a belief that faded with time as they took mission after mission.

Every so often, a video that had been played for them would be in the form of a scene. Sometimes, Arthur would recall one of those scenes like a visual memory except that it was, of course, only a memory of himself watching the video. The video memory that Arthur had just flashed was one of the bits and pieces given to him as one of the vague reasons he was a soldier. Families, he thought. The Facility had said keeping families safe was the reason they had to fight.

Arthur slowly crouched to pick up the magazine again and even the paper was old enough to be yellowed. He hadn't seen a single family that looked like this since he got here. No clean houses, blue skies, green grass fields, happy parents, happy children—none of it.

As he picked up the magazine, several loose sheets of paper slid out and Arthur picked them up.

As soon as he did, he saw he had hit the jackpot. Loopy, cursive script covered the page that began with what Arthur immediately recognized as an inventory of the weaponry that could be found right here in Francis's shop.

The next sheet contained a crudely handdrawn map of the Facility—not the exterior of it, but the interior. It looked accurate as far as Arthur could tell. One room in particular had been circled in red inside the Facility even though it was unlabeled. It wasn't a part of the route that he and Alfred had used to escape, though, so Arthur had no idea what was there.

Arthur began walking back down the corridor, still holding the papers, when he heard the tinkle of the bell and the loud clank of the front door being thrown open.

"Arthur?"

Arthur's heart sped up at Alfred's voice.

"I'm he—"

"Get his medication, we have to move! Vite!"

Arthur tensed at the tone of Francis's voice and broke into a run toward the voices. It was a mistake.

The dizziness and wave of nausea that hit him sent Arthur to his knees, and he swallowed hard three times before he could force himself back to his feet.

"Arthur? Where are you?"

"I—I'm not—"

"Merde! Who gave you permission to move around?" He heard Francis curse. "I'll get the kid outside. Get the idiot Englishman."

Then he heard another door slam right before Alfred called for him again.

"I'm here," Arthur said and tried to hurry faster.

It was odd because the closer Arthur got to Alfred, the more he _knew_ he was close to Alfred. He couldn't say exactly how he knew—he thought it might be scent, pheromones or something that his body could process subconsciously because he had no idea how he knew which way to turn to get himself closer to Alfred. And the closer he got, the hotter his body seemed to feel until he knew that Alfred was just one barricaded wall away.

Arthur turned the corner and was both gratified and worried to see that he was right when he saw Alfred standing just a few feet away. He was holding a dumpy shoulderbag, and dropping one of the guns Francis had given him earlier.

"Out of bullets," Alfred said. "Come on." He immediately turned to go.

Arthur was happy that he was supposed to follow Alfred because he actually had no control over his body as he hurried after him. "What's going on? What the bloody hell did you two do?"

"We went after that transport truck," Alfred said. "It was supposed to be just like the other one, but—"

"What happened?" Arthur demanded. "Why on earth—you just—they're after us now, aren't they?"

Alfred turned just enough to give Arthur a sheepish grin. "Yeah," he said.

Arthur let out a string of curses and wrenched open one of the drawers as they passed, taking out the guns and cartridges there, two for himself and two for Alfred. Alfred looked surprised.

"How did you—"

"I was exploring," Arthur snapped. "Now hurry up before they figure out where we—"

The tinkling bell of the front door interrupted Arthur and both he and Alfred stopped completely still. Arthur strained to hear Francis, but he couldn't hear anything at all—whoever had just come through that door was trained.

The options ran through Arthur's head. There was no way out where Arthur had been—at least not that he had seen. They could risk going back and looking for an exit but wasting precious time, or they could forge forward and hope that they could take out whichever Alpha soldiers had just come through that front door. The safest option Arthur could think of, though, was to use the maze to their advantage as Francis had undoubtedly constructed it for. Arthur knew at least part of the layout, but the soldiers didn't. It was also too narrow for more than one person to advance at a time, so if Arthur and Alfred could retreat into the maze and then pick off the soldiers one by one, they'd have a chance.

Before he could voice this to Alfred though, Alfred suddenly moved—not backwards or forwards, but sideways.

He rammed into the maze wall so quickly that Arthur didn't even realize what he was doing until the wall collapsed in a shower of dust and objects.

Before Arthur could react, he felt a hand close around his wrist—Alfred's—and then he was being pulled after Alfred, leaving behind the din of confused shouts and clanking objects.

He wasn't sure how Alfred even knew where the door was, but he was all too happy to be pulled out into the dim, dust-covered twilight of the streets. Alfred took a quick look around and continued running, still holding onto Arthur's hand, down the street.

Rounding what Arthur realized was the back of Francis's shop, there was an old jeep already waiting for them.

"Hurry! Hurry!" Francis shouted, gesturing at them to get on.

Alfred pushed Arthur ahead of him and, when Arthur apparently didn't move fast enough, Alfred picked him up bodily to all but throw Arthur into the truck. It was humiliating, but Arthur wasn't sure he could have clambered up that fast himself—not when he was still trying to keep down his meal.

Then Alfred himself slung into the car and Francis floored it.

The truck flew around a corner and Arthur went tumbling in the back of the truck. Since the back was covered with heavy canvas sheeting, Arthur couldn't tell what was going on except by the confused rumble of the engines and people screaming and diving out of the way. By the sound of it, they had hit another shanty at full speed and sent the metal lean-tos crashing down. Interspersed between everything else was the din of gunfire.

Arthur was sent hurtling into crates and metal bits and whatever else it was Francis had buried back here. He was bruised in a couple hundred places by the time the noise began to die down and eventually stopped altogether.

Arthur slowly got back up, and unzipped the canvas separating the back of the jeep from the front.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he said as soon as he saw Francis and Alfred.

Francis was still driving but Alfred was holding two semi-automatics now, one in each arm.

"We got caught coming out of the Facility," Alfred said.

"What do you mean you got caught coming out of the Facility?" Arthur said and then his eyes widened. "I thought you said you were taking a transporter. You broke into the bloody Facility?"

"I said we needed a transporter," Francis corrected him. "So we could break into the Facility."

Clearly, Francis was past reasoning with. "And you went along with it?" Arthur turned to Alfred. "How big of a fucking idiot are you? What if you'd gotten caught?"

"But we didn't," Alfred said with a grin. "That's twice I've gotten out of the Facility now. Do you think that's a new record?"

Arthur despaired. Of all people he had ended up stuck with, it had to be these two idiots who didn't have a single bone of self-preservation between them.

"Nothing is wrong," Francis said. "I expected as much and we are all safe, oui?"

"If we'd ended up captured, do you even know what they'd do to us?" Arthur felt faint and he wasn't sure if it was because he was still recovering, or because of the shock. "That's it. Drop us off. Alfred and I are leaving."

"You owe me," Francis said. "I saved—"

"You just risked all our lives," Arthur snapped. "If you try to threaten me again, I swear _I'll_ be the one reporting you to the authorities."

"You'd also be caught," Francis said.

"It'd be worth it," Arthur said.

Francis pulled the car to a stop and turned to glare at Arthur who stared right back at him in the abrupt silence of the night. After a moment, Francis sighed.

"One last job," he said. "I only need you two to 'elp me on one last job and I will consider the debt repaid."

Arthur didn't like it. As far as he was concerned, he was pretty sure Alfred had also just saved Francis's life, but before he could explain that to Francis, he was interrupted.

"Deal," Alfred said and held out his hand, shaking Francis's before Arthur could stop him.

"What do you mean deal?" Arthur demanded. "We've already done more than enough for him!"

"Yeah, but it's only one more job," Alfred said. "It's not really like we're in a hurry to be somewhere."

"We are not going to help him," Arthur said.

"I don't need you then," Francis said. "Alfred will be enough, oui?"

Alfred looked over at Arthur and Arthur hated himself a little for going weak at the knees. While it was true that Arthur had no goals or plans anymore, he wasn't sure he wanted a job for Francis to be his goal. On the other hand, he also knew that no matter how much he wanted to walk away from Alfred right now, he wouldn't be able to make himself. Where Alfred went, he would go.

"Fine," Arthur said, reluctant. "What's the job?"

Francis smiled. "It's sitting right next to you," he said.

Arthur whirled around.

Sitting on a fallen crate next to Arthur, surrounded by fallen weapons and food supplies, was a little boy. Through the dim twilight shining through the front of the jeep, Arthur saw that he looked no older than eleven, twelve at best. With blue eyes like Alfred and bushy eyebrows like Arthur, he looked like something of an odd mix between the two.

"You're from the Facility," Arthur said, staring at the child. "But—but that's impossible. No one gets woken until they're eighteen at least," he said. "Is he—"

"I'm Peter," the boy said. "You're a jerk," he added and kicked Arthur in the shin.

Arthur let out a string of curses as he yanked Peter up by the lapels of his shirt. "What do you mean this is our job," he said, punctuating each word with a shake of the child.

"We need to get him to the labs up north. There's an Omega Physiocist up there who needs what the boy has," Francis said. "The job is to transport him."

"Yeah so you better let me go or you'll be in trouble, you bastard," the boy said, waving his little arms and legs ineffectually until Arthur dropped him. He got to his feet and brushed himself off, flipping Arthur off before sitting down again. "How long's this going to take? Are we there yet?"

"We have quite a ways to go," Francis said, sounding entirely too amused.

"We are _not_ taking this job!" Arthur said. "Are you listening to me? We are not doing this!"

Francis grinned and started the car.

* * *

In case it wasn't obvious, there isn't going to be any mpreg... and the rating has been bumped up to M (cause I'm not sure if what happens in this chapter even counts, but there's going to be M-rated later on).

Also angleterre has drawn gorgeous fanart for this fic, and shouquan is translating it into Chinese! Links are in my profile. Thanks so much guys!


End file.
